


it's okay if you can't catch your breath

by Adamarks



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Boats, Carry On Exchange (Simon Snow), Mutual Pining, Other, Pirates, Songfic, Water, blood mention, fish dont have gender c'mon, fish fuckers only, i mean like. kinda sure yeah, misunderstanding in the only way i could conceive, nonbinary baz, one could argue that this is a little mermaid prequel, pie rat, siren au, two by sleeping at last
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adamarks/pseuds/Adamarks
Summary: Just under the waves, something is moving, twirling, twisting. Not a fish, not an eel, not a whale. Something deeper and darker, more wonderful and precious.Something that, to touch, would be…-A siren calls out to Simon.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 21
Kudos: 68
Collections: Carry On Fall Exchange 2020





	it's okay if you can't catch your breath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snowkatze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowkatze/gifts).



> for @snowkatze for the carry on fall exchange. i hope you enjoy!
> 
> ok my prompts for this were mutual pining, misunderstanding, and two by sleeping at last.
> 
> I think if you squint i managed to fit them all in.

_ The point? _

_ The point is that it’s us and it’s them.  _

_ The point is that it’s me and it’s you.  _

_ The point is the fish in the sea.  _

_ The point is the ground under my feet.  _

_ It’s my hand in yours _

_ Your lips on mine _

_ The point is you and me  _

_ And the rest…. _

_ Well, _

  
  


**I.Begin**

“Oi, Snow. Y’ look like ye been snared by a siren.” 

He waves him away, “Fuck off.” Simon’s eyes stay glued to the water’s surface. 

Just under the waves, something is moving, twirling, twisting. Not a fish, not an eel, not a whale. Something deeper and darker, more wonderful and precious. 

Something that, to touch, would be…

-

It’s there in the evening, after supper. (Supper wasn’t enough. It’s never enough this far into a voyage. Two more weeks of hunger before they dock.)

The deck is near-empty. Whoever is up pays him no mind. He leans over the railing and watches, and wants. 

Fins glide from the water. Light and dark blue scales breach the surface, and Simon’s breath is robbed from his throat. 

It circles and it splashes, and then: a hand, warm brown skin, a wet back, a man’s chest. Simon leans farther over the railing, his boot heels leaving the deck. 

The water stills. Simon’s gut sinks. The sun falls further in the sky. 

_ It’s gone. _

He sighs, and his heels rejoin the wood. His stomach growls.  _ Two more weeks. _

Then—

_ Black.  _

Simon squints past the glare on the water. Like balsamic spilling over a porcelain plate, something black pools in the water. Then the surface breaks. 

The top of a head, two black eyes, a face. Simon’s mouth goes dry; blood rushes to his ears.  _ Aren’t sirens supposed to sing? _

He leans forward, threateningly far over the railing. The swiftness startles it, and Simon gets hissed at before it disappears into the depths. 

He swallows thickly. 

_ Right handsome, wasn’t it? _ He thinks to himself. 

-

_ The point?  _

_ It’s that I’m here and you’re there.  _

_ It’s that I’m not you _

_ And you’re not me _

_ The point is I love you despite it _

_ The point is you love me because of it _

_ The rest is there _

_ Waiting _

_ Watching _

_ But with your lips on mine _

_ Maybe that alone will— _

**II.Speak**

They shouldn’t be doing this. Not really. 

It’s a morbidly terrible idea, nonsensical and foolish. One shouldn’t play with one’s food, let alone—

Let alone…

They’re well aware they’re beautiful to his kind. They’re a perfect trap. A carnivorous lure. But a song and he’d come tumbling over, into the depths, where they could sink their teeth deep into him. His blood would swirl around them in a grotesque dance of life being washed away. 

Baz is hungry, starving. 

The man calls out to them, and their stomach clenches.

-

He always watches, and Baz always approaches. 

They’ve felt the wood of the ship against their tail, familiarized themself with the barnacles, learned the humans’ thundering songs. Their music is so different from their own. It makes your heart run, while theirs slows it to a stop. 

How Baz wishes they could understand the words. 

He’s leaning too far over again.  _ He’s going to fall, and I’m going to kill him.  _

What, exactly, is he intending to achieve when he dangles himself so foolishly? Is he waiting for Baz to reach up towards him? The boat is much too large, they could never reach. 

Does he have a death wish, perhaps? That’s the only real available option when leaning towards a siren. 

He speaks in a harsh voice that grinds against Baz’s ears. They glare and sink further into the water. There’s truly nothing charming about him. His looks, manner, voice— all atrocious. He’s too skinny to even look tasty. 

His hand presses against his breastbone. Two long, grating syllables spew from his mouth. They hiss at him. His need to assault their ears is rather unnecessary and quite annoying. 

He glares, then points a stubby finger at his own face. “-iiiii-muuun” 

_ I-mun? _

Humans have truly ridiculous names. It’s a wonder their species hunts them. 

His hand ventures from his face to gesture at Baz, expectant. His hair grabs and holds fistfuls of the dawn light. 

Baz opens their mouth and their name spills out into the air, unbidden. 

His brows furrow, because he cannot hope to speak as they do, but then he shrugs. He jerks up a thumb and gives a lopsided smile. The sun rises just a little bit more. 

_ Beautiful… _

-

_ Suppose there isn’t a point.  _

_ Suppose we just love each other, and that’s all there is.  _

_ Because wanting you makes no sense  _

_ And adoring even less so _

_ Maybe there is no point _

_ Perhaps it doesn’t matter.  _

**III.Breathe**

The ocean was merciless. The sky was brutal. 

The crew was being tossed like rag dolls. Lightning struck the water close to the ship— a threat from the heavens. One of the men broke into fitful prayer, crying apologies to the sky as it pelted him with rain. 

Simon was in a long line of men lowering the sails as quickly as possible. Water flew at his eyes, blinding him. The ship rocked so violently he kept losing his balance, no matter how he braced himself. Remembering that they’d seen worse was getting difficult to do. 

Lightning hits the water, and Simon finds himself worrying about his siren.  _ Fish swim deeper during a storm.  _

The ship heaves and Simon’s stomach lurches. The man in front of him loses his footing and crashes into him. Their skulls knock together. Pain blooms across the bridge of his nose; he sees stars.

The deafening crack of thunder. 

His ears ringing. 

_ “Fire!” _

His eyes flick up, and he sees blurry red and orange through the sheets of rain. The mast is on fire. The sail they’re lowering is being devoured by flames. 

The men around him let go of the rope. Simon is dragged forward by the force of the sail dropping. His hands start burning. He hits the deck hard. 

The fire reaches the base of the mast. The deck is suddenly aflame. 

Surrounded by water, the wood still burns. 

Chaos. Simon is trampled by fleeing feet. A wave rises up and drags him to the railing. 

Shaky arms raise him up. His eyes go to the angry ocean. Cold rain beats him. Hot fire screams at his back. 

He looks down and sees his siren under the surface. 

A force falls onto him, and he tips over…

-

Humans need air. 

They know this for sure. There is no air for him, not down here. But up there isn’t safe, either. 

He’s warm. So warm. Baz hadn’t appreciated it before, when they were killing. But now, in their arms, he’s like a patch of sun-warmed water. His eyelashes are stubby. He’s covered in spots Baz hadn’t been able to see from so far away. He’s bleeding, too, and it’s making their mouth water. 

_ Air.  _

He’s staring at them. His hands are on their face. 

_ I can give him that. _

Baz covers his mouth with theirs. 

And they fill him up. 

-

_ What does it matter, then? _

_ For God’s sake just kiss me _

_ So I can breathe.  _


End file.
